


Peace Tonight

by xenas_dagger



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Butch/Femme, F/F, Femme Top, Light BDSM, Romantic Fluff, Sort Of, Warrior Angst, butch bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-25 22:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18270581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenas_dagger/pseuds/xenas_dagger
Summary: "Let's make peace tonightThe moon is bare and shining brightLet's make peace tonight in a good time."-- Indigo Girls, "Peace Tonight"Tickle fight! Snuggling by the fire! Mild angst followed by hot Gabrielle-toppy sex! Enjoy!





	Peace Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written October 1999; heavily revised for AO3 March 2019.
> 
> Takes place somewhere between the India arc and "Ides of March". This was much fluffier and less sexy in the original. It got away from me during revision. I am not objecting.

She always touches the tip of my nose.

It's one of the hundred little ways she expresses affection. Her mouth always quirks up when she does it, like she's suppressing a grin. Tonight we've finished supper, cleaned up camp, and are sprawled together on the bedroll easing towards sleep, watching the stars wheel across the sky. Gabrielle has her head pillowed on my shoulder and I can see out of the corner of my eye her studying my profile. She snuggles closer and taps my nose. I'm caught off guard and a giggle escapes me before I can think about it. Her eyes grow wide. "Xena, did I just hear what I think I heard? Did you just... giggle?" Her face lights up with wicked delight.

I fight to pull a serious expression and shake my head as solemnly as I can. "Impossible, Gabrielle. Warlords don't giggle. Everyone knows that. You must be hearing things." 

"Oooh, I don't know about that, Warrior Princess. I'm pretty sure I know what I heard." A knowing, evil grin is my only warning before she pounces on me in a full-scale tickle attack. I howl with laughter, fighting back, only enough to prolong the fun -- I could flip her on her back and end this any time I want, but I have a laughing, wiggling Gabrielle on top of me and I'm no fool. A few more minutes of tussling, punctuated by squeals and giggles, lures her into a false sense of superiority. I see my opportunity and go for the kill: I put my head down and blow a big raspberry in what I know is her most ticklish spot, the soft skin just at the crook of her neck, below her pulse point. She squeals and gasps, "I give up! You win!", surrendering the field before the battle has really begun. I smirk, in no way gracious in victory, and recline in greatly exaggerated glory, lacing my fingers behind my head. "Score one for the Destroyer of Nations."

The playful, laughing wrestle on the sleeping furs has left them in disarray. Still giggling, she complains, "More like the Destroyer of Bedrolls! Get up, you big oaf!" and pushes me off to straighten the furs. We settle back into the bedroll, giggles still trailing off. I pull furs over our entwined bodies. We trade kisses and whispered "good night"s and "I love you"s, and relax wrapped around each other, listening to each other breathe.

She drifts off before I do. It's always been this way. As much as she complains in the morning, you'd think she'd be a night person, but she can rarely manage to stay awake... she's sound asleep long before the moon crests in the sky. It's one of the many differences between us. I don't require much sleep as it is; maybe it's my body's natural cycle, or maybe it's from years of life as a soldier, living on the edge every day.

Or maybe it's that only the good at heart truly sleep well.

Gazing down at Gabrielle's peaceful face limned in silver moonlight, an ache grows in my chest. I haven't been... good... in so many years. Was I ever, really?

It is strange to me that she and I are so different, yet our souls are bound to each other -- at least if our experiences in India are to be believed. I don't understand that. I am Xena, by anyone's estimation the finest tactical mind in all of Greece for a decade, and yet I watch her sleeping and I am dumbfounded. How a woman with as beautiful a heart as hers can be a part of me, I cannot comprehend. I have done so much evil. I have battled evil in my own soul for so long that I can't remember a time when I was as good as she is.

Sometimes it seems as though redemption is out of my reach.

Even after all we've been through together, I can't understand how I merit this love. I remember dragging her from the Amazon village in my wild grief. _I do not deserve her._  A deep shudder passes through my body. 

It's at this point in my brooding that Gabrielle, lightly dozing against my shoulder, awakens. These days she always seems to sense when my heart is aching. She looks up at me with gentle sadness in her green eyes and strokes my cheek, her thumb calloused from years wielding a staff. "What's wrong?"

I know better than to equivocate after all this time. "Just the past keeping me awake. Sorry to wake you, love. Go back to sleep." I turn my head and kiss her palm.

Her eyes are shadowed. I know she's thinking of Chin, of Hope, of Ares.

"Oh, Xena," she whispers. "You're not the only one with regrets."

I'm not good with words; they fail me when I see her sorrow reflected before me. I can only run my fingers through her short golden hair, ruffling it up until she smiles again. She captures my hand and kisses my fingers in turn, a gesture of pure affection as lovely as she is.

And then she is pulling me to her, snaring me in an embrace as strong as steel, so that I cannot escape... but I do not want to escape. I am no Amazon, but she is my queen and captor, and I willingly surrender to her every night. In a life such as ours, nomadic and uncertain at best, these moments are few and precious when we are on the road, and non-existent when we are defending a village, or shoring up the locals during some natural disaster, or... well, you get the idea. Sleep is short and intimacy fleeting when we go about the work set before us.

But this night...

Wordlessly, I surrender to Gabrielle's arms. Her fierce grip belies the tenderness underneath. We hold each other tight, draw comfort from the solid reality of each other's body. In time, I feel her tightly coiled muscles ease from stillness to slow, sinuous movement in my arms. She shifts against me; I turn my head just enough to kiss her neck where I tickled her earlier. Tracing my tongue lightly over the crook of her neck elicits a faint moan, a promise of things to come. I slide my hands up and down her back, feeling the planed muscles shifting under my palms as she runs her hands down my sides. Her touch sends a shiver skittering over my skin; my breath quickens and warmth blooms between my legs. 

With a surge of power, I swing her up and settle her on top of me, straddling my hips. She bites her lip, looking down at me. Her eyes are banked embers only a breath away from flaming to life. She bunches her shift at the hem and pulls it over her head in one fluid movement. The power and grace of her body causes my hips to betray me; they stir involuntarily, straining up to meet the soft golden tangle just out of reach. She lets me look at her, holding herself proudly. She knows the effect she has on me, knows that I am helpless, here underneath her body. And so when she she leans down and whispers, "Take your shift off for me," her tone brooks no disagreement, and she knows I will obey. I pull my shift up, arching up from the bedroll to get it over my head, and discard it unheedingly into the darkness. Gabrielle kneels over my naked body, openly admiring me. The cool air has already plucked my nipples erect, a fact which doesn't escape her notice. "My handsome warrior," she whispers, and takes one breast into her mouth, capturing the other breast with one warm hand and rolling the nipple between her fingers.

The warmth between my legs flares into heat. Somehow her tongue and fingers on my nipples have a direct connection to my cunt. She settles into a gentle, persistent rhythm, alternating between swirling her tongue and catching and scraping my nipple between her teeth, while echoing the movement with her fingers. I feel every pinch and twist pulse in time between my legs. Gabrielle learned early that I need this edge of roughness, especially when I'm battling the demons in my own head: using teeth, pinching just a little too hard, scratches instead of caresses. Just enough pain to ground me in my body, not enough to send me out of it. I move my hips faster, grateful, and slide my hands up her thighs to her hips to pull her closer.

So smoothly I almost don't notice, she takes my hands in hers and moves them above my head. Leaning close to my ear, she whispers, "Keep your hands up, my darling. You know how to do this." I thread my fingers together tightly. I do know how to do this, have done it many times for her. Gabrielle drags her hands back down my body, sitting up and moving one strong thigh to press it against the fervid heat between my legs. Slowly she begins to rock against me. I see stars behind my eyes as I close them, feeling her. A small, soft moan escapes her and I open my eyes. I am unable to resist watching her like this.

Her hair catches the glow of the flickering firelight, outlined like a halo as she sways above me. The moon bathes her in its silver light until she looks for all the world like an angel come to earth. The clouds are heavy tonight; they hang dark and pendulous behind my lover who rises and falls above my body, braced by her hands on either side of me and her leg nestled between mine. Her body presses into mine as she rides me slowly, the only sound our whispers and soft moans and the crackling fire. Her weight on me, her skin sliding over mine, slick with our sweat... if this is of the earth, I can't imagine what the Elysian Fields are like, and I'm not too unhappy that I'll never see them. Because she is my life and my world and my eternity.

When she makes love to me -- and it's always she who insists on pleasing me first, as if it were the most important thing in the world to her -- I have no choice but to lay open to her touch. Xena, the Warrior Princess, the Destroyer of Nations, is always in control. Always. A moment's neglect on the road could spell death for both of us if I don't maintain a tight rein on myself and my environment. Bless Gabrielle for showing me, with gentle firmness and her soft voice, that I can give over that control and still be... safe. She knows exactly how difficult that is for me, and that's why she shows me how to abandon myself to her.

She pulses against me faster now, reaching for my aching nipples again. I strain toward her touch, being sure to keep my hands up for her, my captor. She twists my nipples, hard this time, tearing a guttural moan from my throat. My back arches and my fists clench as she tortures me in the sweetest way, feeling every pinch and scratch throb in my cunt. "Gabrielle, please," I gasp. 

She leans down, keeping her fingers attached to me. "Please what, darling?"

I thrash under her, unable to keep still. "Please, please, you know what I want..."

She smiles. She does know, but she'll make me say it. "Tell me what you need, my love." Her voice is sweet, but this is a command. Her thumb rubs over my nipple, soothing it.

"Please... please be inside me. Please fuck me... my queen."

I feel her delight at my plea shiver over her. "Of course I'll fuck you, angel, since you asked so nicely."

The fingers leave my breast and she skims her fingernails down my body to my waiting cunt. She teases me, dragging her fingers over my lips until my hips are bucking. I am being driven quite out of my mind. She opens me with gentle touches and slides two fingers inside, slowly at first, holding still while I moan and thrash at the sudden fullness. A hand on my belly stills me and her voice thrums in my ears, "Be still, Xena. Let me touch you."

I am stretched out to my full length, hands still clenched overhead, my entire existence focused on Gabrielle's fingers. She moves inside me, echoing the rhythm of her hips and thighs earlier. She curls her fingers and I see stars. Soon she's moving faster, deeper, spreading me open. I soften around her. My clit throbs with need. Just as I think I won't be able to take any more, I hear her low voice commanding me, "Take your hands down, darling," and feel her warm mouth on my clit. I grab her hair, caught in the teeth of desire and need. One, two, three deep thrusts while she hums around my clit, and before I know it, I'm keening out my release, body convulsing over and over, drawn out by her tender caresses. I can hear a voice gasping, "I love you I love you I love you," and I know it's mine, winding down into a shuddering gasp. My chest heaves like Argo's after a flat-out run.

Then I am in her arms, being cradled as gently as if I were a baby. With her clean hand she soothes my hair from my forehead. She drinks me in with her kiss and whispers, "You did so well for me, Xena. I'm so proud of you, my love." I look up into her eyes that are filled with love and passion, and I marvel again at the gift of her. Everything is somehow right when she holds me.

We kiss leisurely for a few minutes. It's my turn now to pleasure my queen, to show her my gratitude for the gentle care she shows me.

I smile at her and push her down carefully on our bedroll, running my hands over rock hard muscles, soft curves, skin as smooth as the finest silk from Chin. Her body is almost vibrating with need. I've long known how exciting it is for her when I capitulate like I just did. I idly wonder as I kiss my way down her body what our friends would think if they knew about Gabrielle's desire to rule and my need to surrender to her in the bedroll. When I reach the apex of her thighs I pause to skate my tongue over her hips and belly, not wanting to taste her too soon. I know from long experience that once the lioness is out of her cage it doesn't take much to send Gabrielle over the edge, and I want to prolong this sweet tension.

Gabrielle, on the other hand, has other ideas. Her belly and hips roll under my mouth and she growls incoherently, threading her fingers through my hair. "Xena..." she grinds out, voice low and guttural. The tone sends a shot straight to my belly.

I duck my head to the slickness I find between her legs and do my best to make her twist under me and moan my name.

The first taste of her musky, sweet sex is always heady. My eyes flutter closed involuntarily. I gain purchase, hands around her thighs, and anchor her to my mouth. My tongue plays over her, every flick pulling a moan or a gasp from her. I swirl my tongue and tease, then plunge in and suckle hard, alternating between gentle and rough. I know what my queen needs.

She is never more beautiful than at a time like this. Her head is thrown back, revealing a slender neck covered with a fine sheen of sweat, eyes closed in complete abandon. Her body moves sensually beneath me, hips rocking in an ancient rhythm; her hands press my head against her. When I look up from between her legs and see her body strung tight like a bowstring, I know what bliss is. I know what pleasure is when I slide my fingers into her and once again know what she feels like from the inside. I know what perfection is when she surges against me, half-crying and half-moaning, her powerful body gone rigid in one golden, suspended moment, before trapping my fingers and clenching around me, a guttural scream echoing into the night. She comes so quickly, but the wave is startling in its intensity. I am, as always, struck breathless by the beauty of it.

I will swear before all the gods that I have never seen anything so achingly lovely as Gabrielle in the throes of an orgasm. That I am allowed to be the one to bring her this pleasure makes me the proudest of anything in my life, past or present.

She collapses on the bedroll, pulsing around my fingers, and blinks open her eyes. A laugh bubbles up from her depths and she pulls my face up to hers, kissing me long and sweet. I gently, slowly pull my hand back, causing her to gasp quietly into the kiss as my fingers leave her. Her hair is disheveled and in disarray; I smooth it out of her eyes, reordering her bangs with my fingers, and murmur, "I love you, Gabrielle."

She smiles at me. At me, an old ex-warlord with a bad temper and a bloody past. Then she pulls me to her and, with a sigh of contentment, wraps herself around me, and whispers, "I love you too, Xena. Now and forever."

Then she cracks open one eye and sleepily touches the tip of my nose before closing her eyes again, yawning, and curling her arm around my back to sleep.

And I know peace again.

**Author's Note:**

> I have this theory that Gabrielle is way more of a top and Xena is way more of a sub than we generally think about, so I decided to explore that a little bit.


End file.
